It's 6:45pm… a Monday.
He's somewhere, talking to someone—probably his oldest daughter—about I-have-no-idea-what.
There's been a shift. His personality is different. Cold. Distant. Aloof… the three words I associate with him any time he has contact with his daughter.
Late evenings at work. Predictably unpredictable.
Days of quiet that flipped on like a switch from a frantic week of contact just days before.
It leaves me unsettled.
Something isn't right here. He came and went without saying hi.
It's 7:15pm… and I'm sitting here alone.
He went to get cigarettes; said, "it's not you, it's just been a day."
I need an outlet. I need answers. I need to let the truth claw it's way out for the world to see.
Let it out! Let the truth blast forth from your fingers to weave winding tales on the keyboard. We will listen. Upped and followed.